-- a journey into awareness
I was invited to join them for Christmas
but this family time feels too intimate
to barge in on. Yes, it’s me holding back.
Haven’t gotten my sea legs under me
to enter into new adventures with others.
Instead I’ll allow the quiet to surround me
Reconnect with myself
Find out what I do when I don’t have to do anything
Figure out how I can invite others in…
Yes…it’s time to reconnect with the one.
He had to go
for me to grow.
Sheltered by his love
Buoyed by his support
my own self doubt,
self hatred was repressed,
waiting to emerge
with a roar.
Puzzled by my pulling in,
my numbing out at night.
Feeling as if I didn’t want
to go on alone.
The self rejection had surfaced
muddying everything
I saw.
I didn’t feel worthy to be
held and comforted.
I didn’t feel worthy of God’s
love, of my own love.
I was the
seven year old
shamed
feeling lost and alone
and I got it!
Epilogue: I’d been getting the message from Joseph that I shouldn’t attache the love I felt for him, and from him, to him. That it was a reflection of the Divine Love we embody. My head understood the words, but my heart didn’t believe it. I prayed to understand.
I didn’t understand until I learned that what we repress waits for our attention and for release. The repressed shame was trying to get my attention. I saw where I was stuck (yes, a seven year old) and I could let it go. A feeling of peace I haven’t felt for months descended. I am blessed. I am thankful.
You fear that your mourning will
be less interesting, even annoying
to those around you as time passes.
Even as the explosions in your heart
continue to erupt, the loss hitting harder.
“When someone you love dies, … you don’t lose him all at once; you lose him in pieces over a long time—the way the mail stops coming, and his scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in his closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of him that are gone. Just when the day comes—when there’s a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that he’s gone, forever—there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.” adapted from “A Prayer for Owen Meany,” by John Irving
It feels true that you lose someone in pieces,
You see a river where you might have wandered with him,
just walking, hanging out together. And suddenly, you’re
pulled into a quicksand of sadness, sinking uncontrollably.
You have no idea how to be without him.
The realization surprises you.
How did you get so dependent?
or maybe, How did you get so comfortable?
so comfortable with how things were, until they weren’t, and
you’re roughly tossed into this broiling confusion: who are you now?
Some wear it around their necks
Others shift it to their right hand
Some sell it for what they can get
Mine rests in a box with his.
I’m changing to my engagement ring,
a Star Sapphire, its star hidden
until placed in the Light.
A gentle reminder that love
never dies, that what’s
important is always there. 
You just have to know where to look,
how to look, and of course always
be prepared to be surprised
The gift and challenge of loss
The ring came off.
The journey continues.
I drive down 31E through Ky
into TN remembering the lush
farmlands, the quiet countryside,
and I feel him beside me.
I go to WPAF Base to reassure
myself that my military ID is still good.
I walk the aisles of the Commissary
and I feel him, hear his commentary.
The “Old Haunts” where we were
Just together, doing everyday things.
His presence, I feel it, and then
my mind reminds me that will change.
The memory will fade.
The feeling of him will dissipate
as if he’s merely a ghost haunting me.
Stop! I bring myself back into now.
I let him be here with me.
I give up trying to know, as least
for a nano second, what’s next.
I stop trying to make sense of it all.
Right now it is enough to
feel my love for him
from him
and let it be.
I was getting annoyed with my neighbor.
I’d invite him to visit ,
then get cynical/argumentative.
What was going on?
Another friend sat with me.
She listened as I put the question
out there…waiting.
The answer came,
“He’s not Joseph.”
The tears followed.
It wasn’t the Presence I knew
the Presence I expected
the Presence I so loved.
I keep discovering ways I miss him
Even as I feel him with me
go figure…
‘cause I can’t.
P.S. This isn’t about my neighbor whom I truly like. It’s just what happened. I continue to allow the feelings to flow through me the best I can, trusting that it is as it should be. Being willing to see, to feel in the moment, even when it’s uncomfortable, embarrassing, is to me being here now. It allows me to release the thoughts/emotions so I can come closer to touching the silence within. So be it.
When I get stuck, writing helps me get in touch with those thoughts that lie just under the surface. It moves my energy to simply let the words come.
For the last few days, the push I’ve been feeling for weeks to gather up and get rid of some of Joseph’s things seemed to disappear.
I would sometimes wonder about the forcing function behind getting rid of things; what was going on when I gave away his exercise bike or clothes, or sold Joseph’s car,? And then, when all of a sudden (so it seemed), the energy to do so stalled, what was this is about?
I do believe there’s something called “magical thinking.” Something that happens when 
someone close to you dies and you can’t really process all that it means. It’s a phenomena that Joan Didion wrote so well about. For me, I think the running out of steam had to do with these magical, under the surface, not necessarily rational, thoughts:
If I get rid of things, it will be over. — “it “being the loss; the wanting to know what or who’ll be left….
If I don’t get rid of things, I won’t have to face it. — “it” being the vacuum; what feels like the looming need to rebuild my life….
I know both statements are wishful thinking. I know “it” won’t be over and I know I’ll have to face whatever comes. This morning I just cried.
But bringing to consciousness what was lurking in the background does shift my energy, at least for now. The feelings, challenges, unanswered questions remain. But I trust the next steps will all unfold in their own time. ☺️
A number of books about death
have floated my way.
It may be the aging of baby boomers,
or it may be another coming out of the closet.
A culture that believes you can pull yourself
up by the boot straps,
buy yourself out of any situation…
finding out that Life has the last laugh.
Death will either crack you open
to the magic of each moment or
create scar tissue that
has no feeling.
Grieving is humbling
corralling you into the present
no where to go
a journey
you can’t control,
or even understand
simultaneously you’re numb and
more alive then you’ve ever been.
So the anger comes
mixed with sadness,
numbing out the tears.
Stay strong, you can do
this, don’t show the world
the bleeding wounds of grief.
Overwhelmed by stuff,
finding the perfect place
to donate or give his things.
As if he would care.
How do you honor what
he put his life energy into?
How could he leave me?
I loved him so much. But Death
takes no notice of such things.
This is the irrational time—
the feelings come, and I know
will go in their own time, but really
couldn’t they just leave now?
I hit a space
where I feel alone
lost, cutoff.
I’m not of course.
Friends reach out
with care and food.
So where does
vulnerability
come from?
Did I over identify
with “us”?
Did “me” get lost?
Filling out the all
the paperwork
scares me.
It never used to.
Did I think he was a
talisman for me?
My mind searches
for an explanation,
even though I know
it’s only with time that
a new way of life
will be born.